What They Like
by Milliecake
Summary: 'She learned from an early age what they liked.' A small character study, one view on how Irene Adler might have come to be.


Title: What They Like

Author: Milliecake

Rating: T for adult themes

Spoilers: A Scandal in Belgravia

Summary: She learned from an early age what they like

Author's Notes: A small character study, one view on how Irene Adler might have come to be

Additional AN: I applaud the authors who manage to stick with this fandom throughout the hiatus. The beeb really needs to release some books or something. From all the stories I've been catching up on, they've got some fantastic writers right here they could use! Also, Moffat stop reading fanfiction.

OoOoO

She knows what he likes by the way he watches her. Leaning in the doorway as she does her French homework, she ignores his silence, his loud, speculative thinking. Her mother is out, her new boyfriend left to watch her kids. She doesn't trust him, but when has that ever stopped her. Irene pauses to tap the end of her pen deliberately against her lips and in her vanity mirror sees him straighten from his slouch, his breathing quicken. She enjoys the rush of power.

Her sixth form teacher tells her she could do so much better. She is bright, clever, popular, despite the social disadvantages of her council estate background. She tells him she'd like to be an actress one day. Or perhaps an opera singer. She doesn't enroll in drama or music when the offer suddenly comes around. Poor man. His disillusionment is slowly setting in. She knows what he likes. She's almost sad he'll never get it.

In social circles at school, she is always the centre, the queen bee. It wasn't hard. She knows what her friends like. Her teacher is right, she is clever. She doesn't waste time learning Shakespear and chemical equations by rote, but manipulates those around her who seem so naive and stupid in comparison. The game she plays is all about control. She goes out with Stewart for a time, playing the virgin with him, while meeting his best friend Anthony in the janitor's closet. She knows what he likes, obvious from a teenage boy. She isn't even careful about it, eventually has to go as far as to arrange their discovery by Stewart. The fight in the school yard is spectacular. It should have been nothing less considering the position he had found them in. Stewart leaves the school not long after. Anthony is more forgiving. Jessica is not.

The boys are easy to manipulate. The girls are not. Infinitely more tricky, and therefore much more fun. Jessica is pretty, long blonde hair, wealthy parents. It wasn't a hardship for Irene to seduce her. It was Jessica who first made her reconsider her sexuality. They talk in Jessica's bedroom, the stuffed toys and posters of Madonna's Vogue. She lies. They kiss. Irene knows what she likes. Irene thinks of Eve, the goth girl, as Jessica comes undone at her hands. If only daddy knew what his angel was doing.

Eve shares her cigarettes with Irene. She isn't as clueless as the others. She lets Irene listen to her walkman even though she knows Irene will never let herself be seen with her. She introduces Irene to pain as pleasure. Irene learns what she likes. It's a new discovery.

Irene is never stupid. The end of school means the end of her reign. The world beyond is new and for a while she doubts. College, a job, a relationship...no opportunity that can compare to the game she has created. The people who exist out there are _years _ahead of her. It is a challenge. She will re-create the game out there.

She finds a moderately wealthy man. Pathetic, middle aged. She holds all the power because she is young and beautiful and he is married and in politics. And she knows what he likes. She knew what his daughter liked, too. He is her stepping stone to the luxuries the family she easily left behind will never see. She holds no qualms and spends his money. While she travels London in his Benz, she occasionally sees a familiar face and smiles. She is the poor girl come good. But it isn't enough. She is ambitious. She is bored as a mistress and wasted.

She uses his money to refine her trade, then plies that trade exclusively to the wealthy, to the powerful. At the end it is money and it is power and Irene stands astride the cream of London. She is wealthy and she is becoming jaded and she buys a special phone camera.

She meets Jim Moriarty and she knows what he likes. He thrills her in a way no man or woman has done for years. He is fun and he is clever and he is deadly on the turn of a whim. He is looking for something special and of course she is there to provide. She thinks she has reached her peak but Jim has shown her she is wrong. Their game begins.

He spoonfeeds her the first treat and it is _tasty_. The man stares at her naked form and she stares back. She doesn't know what he likes. He is clever and she adores clever. The rush is sweet and fresh when she catches him off guard for the first time. She has become so much more, the woman who beat Sherlock Holmes. She tries to draw him out but he doesn't _bite_. The game continues and it is beautiful.

She has the upper hand but she still doesn't know what he likes. He intrigues her, an enigma. She could try another pressure point, but she is too used to using only one. Sometimes a little more in the same spot is all it takes. She was right. He was in her head from the start, and now he is in her heart. It's just the game, she tells herself. A new toy soon loses its appeal. But one that refuses to bend or break can easily become obsession.

She has outsmarted him and she knows what he dislikes. The loss of power, due to the actions of his own younger brother. Here is a man that would never willingly give up control, but she has his hands tied down. It is glorious and she gloats. The dominatrix who brought a nation to its knees, he says. But no, it is that poor, council estate girl who has proven she was more than a match for the smartest men in the world.

In moments he has stripped all her power from her. He does not tie her down, whip her with a riding crop but she is powerless nonetheless. She gave herself too much into the pleasure and failed, at the last, to hold control. He has beaten her and she has no tricks left to save herself. She begs because she is clever enough to know of the many enemies she has made and that she no longer has the power to force anyone to her side for protection. He lets her go.

She isn't jaded anymore. She is frightened, desperate. There are no more games to play. She hears her own gasp of pleasure and looks to eyes out of place in the desert night. As he makes his move, she smiles to herself. She knows at the last what he likes.

THE END


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